It must be Summertime.
How do I know, here in the land of the triple-digit spring?
Because the red fruits are here, and priced for ballast.
Strawberries you can smell a yard away. Big like pond frogs,
and almost crystalline with sugar when you bite into them.
Watermelons, green and striped. Sweet like the girl who used
to coordinate the dances at my high school.
Man, was that the perfect timing for breaking out the big
pot of Chili I made on Friday and put in the fridge to cure.
Roughchop a white onion, shred wide two kinds cheddar, chase
down a handful of soda crackers, pop the vault door on a Fat
Tire, add spoon, and chow.
--Blair "Happy camper."